John Henry vs. John Hancock…. in a steel cage!!!!!

So, I’m in the sandwich shop buying a sandwich today. Wait, it gets better.

The lady behind the counter is nice enough, but as is customary in the pit I work in called Winter Haven, Florida, she’s solid Polk County. That is to say, she’s lived in, or at the very least, visited the Double-Wide for years.

And in the mornings, she raises her withered tattooed frame to greet the morning with multiple coughings and another cigarette. Afterwards, she brushes her tooth and mentally greets the new day similar to the way cattle do. Moo.

Now, I’m getting my sandwich and I have to pay with my VISA card, as my ability to carry cash is limited, unfortunately, to the amount of money I actually have. That having been established, I haven’t had much cash on me since…. well, when were The Cars popular? 1985, I think.

So, the nice tattooed lady takes my card, runs it through, makes a flattering comment about my picture on the card (she’s right, I’m adorable) and the paper receipt I have to sign comes out of the register.

She rips it off the register, places it in from of me with a pen and says:

“OK, put your John Henry right here.”

John Henry?

Now, me being slightly more educated than cattle, I’m pretty sure she meant “John Hancock”.

Because, if I had placed my John Henry there… well, we would have been dealing with a whole different set of parameters...